ANNA--[Who has listened to him with a growing interest--with an
uncertain laugh.] It sounds good to hear you tell it. I'd sure
like a trip on the water, all right. It's the barge idea has me
stopped. Well, I'll go down with you and have a look--and maybe
I'll take a chance. Gee, I'd do anything once.

CHRIS--[Picks up her bag again.] Ye go, eh?

ANNA--What's the rush? Wait a second. [Forgetting the situation
for a moment, she relapses into the familiar form and flashes one
of her winning trade smiles at him.] Gee, I'm thirsty.

CHRIS--[Sets down her bag immediately--hastily.] Ay'm sorry, Anna.
What you tank you like for drink, eh?

ANNA--[Promptly.] I'll take a--[Then suddenly reminded--
confusedly.] I don't know. What'a they got here?

CHRIS--[With a grin.] Ay don't tank dey got much fancy drink for
young gel in dis place, Anna. Yinger ale--sas'prilla, maybe.

ANNA--[Forcing a laugh herself.] Make it sas, then.

CHRIS--[Coming up to her--with a wink.] Ay tal you, Anna, we
calabrate, yes--dis one time because we meet after many year. [In
a half whisper, embarrassedly.] Dey gat good port wine, Anna. It's
good for you. Ay tank--little bit--for give you appetite. It ain't
strong, neider. One glass don't go to your head, Ay promise.